


Don’t Let Them Hear

by TheOlderDixonBoy



Category: Slither (2006)
Genre: F/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 21:13:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20142073
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheOlderDixonBoy/pseuds/TheOlderDixonBoy
Summary: Request for “You’re such a dirty girl, of course this excites you” with Grant Grant. Warnings: sex, language, voyeurism.





	Don’t Let Them Hear

You looked in your compact mirror to see if your make-up looked alright. It did. You snapped your mirror shut and turned towards your husband, Grant, who was sitting in the driver’s seat. He already looked unamused.

“Okay, Mr. Grant, you ready to go in?” You asked. You reached over and squeezed his large hand in yours.

“Do I hafta, Mrs. Grant?” Grant groaned. He was only half kidding. He placed his forehead on the steering wheel and sighed before he sat up and opened the car door. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Grant and you had come to this man’s house about fifty miles outside of town in hopes of convincing the man to invest in Grant’s new business venture. The man was having a party, one of the kind organized by his wife who seemed to do little more than shop and plan parties for charities that never seemed to get the check in the mail. When you first met Grant you thought he must have been the richest man in the country, but that was before you had met the people Grant worked for. This potential investor had the largest house you’d ever seen; it was at least three times as large as the one Grant had bought after you two got married.

Parties like this were always black tie, and always had an exclusive guest list. They always had the best food, booze, and entertainment. And they were always boring as hell.

The evenings typically went like this: Grant and you would arrive and get drinks. Grant would talk to whoever it was he was trying to start a business with. That person would say something that implied he was going to be paying Grant without actually saying it, and then you’d only have to suffer through four more hours of boring conversation before you went home.

Of course, at least it got Grant in a tux, and gave you an excuse to make Grant buy you a new dress. He always looked so handsome cleaned up and out of his usual khakis and wrinkled button ups. Also, you couldn’t deny that even though you had never thought of yourself as the type of woman who cared about wearing designer dresses, it was nice.

You adjusted his bow tie and kissed him on the cheek, careful to do so with the corner of your mouth as to not smudge your lipstick.

He sighed and opened the car door before walking over to the passenger door and opening it for you. Grant held your hand as you got out and lead you to the front door. Before you two had made it all the way there, a doorman opened the door.

When you got inside, you gasped. The house is beautiful. It looks like it came directly from a magazine and you can’t stop looking around in awe. Grant looked around and shook his head. When he saw how impressed you were, he squeezed your hand in his.

“Let’s find some booze, yeah?” Grant asked.

You smiled and nodded as you followed Grant to where the drinks were being served.

“Can’t believe you said ‘booze’,” you teased Grant.

He may have been a successful business owner now, but he let some of his more redneck roots come out when he spoke.

Grant handed you a glass of wine and then lead you over to where the hosts, Mr. and Mrs. Johnson were. The two men said hello to one another, shook hands, and then Grant made a comment about the most recent business venture of Mr. Johnson’s and its success. You smiled at Mrs. Johnson and complimented her dress. She said you looked lovely this evening and you talked about where she was going to travel next. You were bored out of your mind. The wine helped.

Grant and Mr. Johnson spoke, hinting at what the other one wanted without actually saying what it was. Grant wanted him to invest in his next business. Johnson wanted to be made partner to earn a higher percent of the profits in exchange for investing. Both were trying to figure out how to get what they wanted without explicitly stating it. You could only handle about ten minutes of this before you excused yourself to the restroom.

You walked slowly, grabbing another glass of wine on the way. You sipped it slowly as you walk to the restroom Mrs. Johnson pointed out, but you didn’t stop at it. You kept going, wandering around what must have been the largest and most beautiful home you’d ever seen. You could hear the party going on, the muffled sound of boring conversation and light, fake laughter.

Grant has never been like these people, not really. He had money, and he enjoyed the finer things in life, but he wasn’t them. You knew what was said about you two. The people in town had thought the two of you marrying was quite the gossip. A young, beautiful woman marrying a man that much older than her? It was quite the scandal. But even with all his money, Grant wasn’t like the Johnsons. He didn’t have a three story mansion with a live in cook, maid, and driver. Your house didn’t have eight bedrooms and seven baths. You had always thought Grant was one of the wealthiest men you’d ever known, but now you saw just what the difference between a millionaire and a billionaire was.

You were looking in the bathroom attached to the fourth guest room you had come across when you heard footsteps behind you. Your heart fell for a moment when you thought that you were going to get asked to go back to the party by one of the staff, or worse, Mrs. Johnson herself, and get Grant in a lot of trouble business relationship wise.

When you turned around and saw it was Grant you smiled and let out a sigh of relief.

“Sugarplum, there you are,” he said, sighing as he did. “Thought I lost you.”

“I got bored,” you said and shrugged. “This house is huge.”

“Yeah. Sure is somethin’,” Grant said.

“Maybe I shoulda flirted with this old man instead of you,” you said. You heard Grant let out a small huff and you smiled. “Maybe I’d get to go on three fantastic vacations a year instead of only two.”

“That why ya married me?” Grant asked. He walked over to you and put his hands on your waist. “For my money?”

“Of course,” you whispered. You leaned forward to kiss him softly. “That’s what everyone in town says.”

“Must be true then,” Grant mumbled into your lips. He kissed you again. He looked around the bathroom you were standing at the entrance of. “Who the hell has a bathroom this nice?”

You turned to look around the room and scoffed at Grant. It was a perfect room. All marble counters, beautiful fixtures, with a giant porcelain tub next to a huge shower.

“I think it’s nice,” you said. “We should redo our master bath.”

Grant walked into the bathroom and wiped his finger on the sink counter.

“Bit dusty,” Grant said, holding up a finger that clearly had no dirt on it.

You rolled your eyes at Grant and watched him wander around the bathroom. He looked good tonight. His suit had recently been tailored and fit him perfectly. Grant may have been an older man, but he kept himself in good shape. Years in the marines had taught him how to keep himself looking trim.

You could still hear the sound of the party in the background and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. When the door closed, Grant turned towards you. You set your now empty glass of wine on the bathroom counter.

You couldn’t stifle your grin as an idea formed in your head.

“It’s a big house Grant,” you said softly. You stepped up to Grant and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Yup, it is,” Grant answered.

His hands ran up your hips to your sides, bunching up the fabric of your dress as he did so the fabric was now at the top of your thighs. You pressed your body into Grants and groaned softly. After all these years you still felt a rush of giddy excitement about being with Grant.

“Bet nobody even knows we’re here,” you whispered up at Grant. You leaned into him to kiss him again.

Grant moved one of his hands down so he could grip the bare skin of your thigh. You lifted your leg up to wrap around Grant’s. He chuckled and began to kiss your neck, leaving sloppy, wet kisses along your skin.

You couldn’t help but laugh at Grant’s enthusiasm. He had always been an affectionate man, never leaving you wanting for any sort of physical affection. You tightened our grip on Grant and pulled your body closer to yours. You could smell his cologne and the alcohol on his breath, the combination making your head swim with need. Even after all these years, there was something about Grant that just did it for you.

Grant stopped kissing your neck momentarily to push your leg back down and back you up into the counter.

“Come here,” he said playfully and pulled you up by the hips so you were sitting on the counter. Your hip hit your wine glass and knocked it to the floor, breaking it at the base.

“Oh shit,” you gasped and looked at Grant in horror.

“He can buy more,” Grant said and sputtered out a laugh.

Grant leaned down and picked up glass up. He moved to throw it in the trash but you stopped him.

“No! They’ll see!” You said. “They’ll know someone was in here.”

“Who cares?” Grant asked and threw the glass away anyway.

You laughed and hid your face in your hands. Grant wiped the wine and pieces of glass from his hands and turned back to you. He placed his hands on your thighs and parted them so he could step between your legs, grinning the entire time. His fingertips trailed along your upper thighs, sending shivers through your body. His large, warm hands gripped your bare skin and pulled you closer to him. You arched your hips towards Grant, moaning softly, and trailed your hands down his chest, popping the buttons of his jacket off.

“What ya doin’, sugar?” Grant asked in little more than a whisper.

“Nothing,” you said quietly.

You pushed the jacket off of his shoulders. Grant slowly pulled the straps of your dress down your arms and kissed the top of your right shoulder. You laughed and kissed his temple gently. Grant was perfect at moments like this, small, quiet, sweet moments that made you forget you were upstairs in the bathroom of someone else’s house.

Grant’s hands trailed up your thighs, pushing the fabric of your dress up high enough so that you could feel the cold granite of the countertop on your ass. He trailed his hands back down, brushing over the front of your thighs, the thumbs of both his hands running along your clothed slit.

“Ya got them pretty lil’ panties on, huh?” Grant asked. He tilted his head and looked down to see your underwear, a black lacy number he had bought you a few weeks ago.

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Thought you’d like them.”

“So you were planning this?” Grant asked.

“Maybe not this exactly,” you said. “But I figured I’d give my husband a look at some point this evening.”

Grant grinned and chuckled at you. His thumbs continued to run along your panties, the sensations doing nothing but making you want more. You could tell you were starting to soak through the fabric and bucked your hips towards his.

“Did you lock the door?” You asked, suddenly remembering where you were.

“Don’t think so,” Grant answered. He hooked his thumbs over the waistband of your panties and began to pull them down, shimmying them off your hips. “Why? Did you?”

“Someone may find us,” you said. You lifted your hips so Grant could easily slide your underwear down your legs.

“Ain’t that the fun part?” Grant asked.

“Yeah, I guess,” you said softly.

Grant pulled your panties off of your legs and held the fabric in one of his large hands. With his other, he used his fingers to part your lips, looking at how wet you’d become. He shook his head and licked his lips.

“You’re such a dirty girl, of course this excites you,” Grant said with a raspy chuckle.

He threw your panties over his shoulder in a quick, dramatic motion onto the bathroom floor, making you both giggle. The combination of your arousal, the alcohol you both had, and the mild absurdity of the situation causing you both to have a fit of laughter.

“Hey, hey,” Grant said, trying to stifle his own laughter. “This is serious business. You gotta focus.”

“Okay,” you said and took a deep breath, stopping your laughing but unable to suppress the grin that had spread across your face. “Very serious. Sorry Grant. What were you saying?”

“How dirty of a girl I got,” Grant said. He ran his hand down to your core again and began brushing his fingertips against your center, finding your swollen clit and pinching it softly. You moaned and bucked your hips into his hand. He mumbled mostly to himself, “So wet.”

“Mhm,” you moaned back, grinding yourself harder into his hand.

You unbuckled his belt and made quick work of his pants, pulling them down to his mid thighs. You could see the outline of his cock through his boxer briefs and ran your fingertip along it slowly.

Grant closed his eyes and sighed at your touch. The look of pure pleasure on his face turned you on more than anything; nothing was as good as knowing this was your man you were making feel this way.

You pulled his underwear down, exposing his cock. He looked at you and leaned forward to kiss you, hard. When you gripped his cock in your hand, warm, and thick, and plumping up to full hardness, he bucked his hips into your hand. His own hand was still stroking your pussy, every little touch making the heat and the need in your stomach build. You nibbled at his lip and moaned his name sweetly into his mouth. When you wrapped your legs around his hips, Grant knew you were ready.

He entered you slowly, groaning and sighing as he did. Your eyes fluttered and your mouth parted slightly, focusing on the sensation of being split open by Grant. Every time felt as good as the first time.

He began to grind himself against you slowly, pushing and pulling himself in and out of you in a rhythmic motion. You couldn’t help the sighs and small laughs that fell from your lips.

“So good,” you moaned at Grant, smiling as you did.

Grant kissed you again, his large hand holding you face. His other hand was gripping onto your hip, steadying you.

“Fucking perfect,” he growled back.

He kept fucking you, deep, and steady, alternating between looking into your eyes and kissing you. Your hands gripped the marble counter, holding onto something to ground you when you felt yourself building to orgasm. You tilted your hips up to find that perfect angle, and when you did Grant held your body there so he could hit that perfect spot over and over again.

“Oh my godmnnnnnmm,” you tried to groan but Grant covered your mouth with his hand so you wouldn’t alert the rest of the party of where you two were, and what you two were doing.

When you came, you gripped onto the counter so hard your knuckles turned white, your legs shaking around Grant. He buried his head into your neck and with a few grunts and a shuddering gasp, he came into you.

He removed his hand from your mouth and ran it down your arms, fixing the straps of your dress one by one.

You looked up at him and caught your breath, a grin spread over your face.

“That’s, uh, one way to party,” Grant said.

He wiped himself off with a nearby towel and tucked himself back into his pants. He helped you clean up as well, making sure to retrieve your panties from the other side of the bathroom.

“You nerd. Come here,” you said. You grabbed the panties from Grant’s hand and held them in yours. “Do you think they noticed we’ve been gone?”

“Probably,” Grant said. He let out a loud laugh and smiled at you, a wide, toothy smile that you couldn’t help but smile back at. “Should we tell them why.”

“No! Don’t you dare!” You said. You slid down from the counter and turned towards the mirror. Luckily your hair wasn’t too messed up. Dress was a little wrinkled though. “We’ll tell them we uhh, we took a tour of the house. We’re thinking of remodeling and wanted ideas.”

Grant nodded at you and shrugged.

“Whatever works, sugar plum,” he said. “Ya gonna put those back on?”

You looked down at your underwear still in your hand and shrugged.

“Nah,” you said and handed them to Grant.

Grant took them and placed them in his front pocket, grinning at you as he did.

“Dirty little girl,” he growled at you. He reached his hand out to lead you back to the party.

You could still hear the soft, boring music, and hear the sound of meaningless conversation peppered with fake laughter. But now it seemed more bearable. Maybe this was how you made these parties worth going to.


End file.
